Children are precious.  We have two of them, and I am one of three siblings.  A few years ago I asked my mother when you stopped worrying about your kids.  She smiled, and said “Never.  You just teach them as well as you’re able, and then you pray that they make good choices in their lives.  You pray a lot.”  

Parents love their kids, or at least they should.  Of course, at times we do have frustrated moments, and moments when we wonder where we’ve gone wrong in our parenting, but that moment when they fall asleep in your arms, and you marvel at their perfection is one I will treasure forever.

Even as they grow older, pulling up a doona to tuck them in, or hugging them when they come home from uni is a wonderful, special moment.  Those moments when you almost burst with pride at their exploits at school, on the sporting field or a concert, when you know, absolutely, that your kids are just the best – the most wonderful, beautiful, talented human beings in the whole world.

Tonight I sit here pondering.  I’ve just watched Sixty Minutes, and the first story was about the death of little Kiesha Abrahams.  She was killed by her mother, and had suffered abuse at the hands of the one person who should have treasured her.  It’s so hard to understand.

In a complete contrast, for the last few weeks I’ve followed the fight for life of a baby boy on Facebook.  A beautiful, wonderful little boy, whose parents loved him to the bottom of their hearts, and two days ago, he passed away in the arms of his Mum and Dad. 

I’m left pondering the depths of love and anger that we find in the hearts of human beings.  

What is left is this – probably the greatest words ever spoken about love.  “ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”  This is love.